


A Page of Mist

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-25
Updated: 2005-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>We could have stood with the other half-sure ones</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Page of Mist

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through S5. Title, summary, and headings taken from Naomi Shihab Nye's _French Movies_.

_i. Materialize on the screen,  
then whisk away,  
leaving us pale shoulders_

Fred's fiddling with the swizzle stick she's stuck in her drink. It's a swank one, glass and transparently pretty.

"I know you're just doing this 'cause you feel sorry for me," Harmony blurts out, except not, because she's thought it dozens of times. This is just the first time she's said it out loud.

The swizzle stick clatters against the tabletop.

"What?" Fred says. She laughs loud, once, and it just confirms Harmony's suspicions.

Harmony shrugs. "I mean, you could be in the lab, or hanging out with those dorks in the lab, or whatever girls like you do when you're not on dates, which must be _a lot_."

Fred blinks.

"No offense," she adds. "This is just, y'know, weird."

Another round of drinks arrives, and they quaff for seven minutes, in silence.

"I like you," Fred says, finally.

Harmony chokes on her green apple martini.

Fred's blushing. "You're funny, and pretty, and you know what I do for a living, which is a big plus. And I know you might not really be interested in physics, or chemistry, or the artificial intelligence experiments we've been working on, even though, really, they're kind of cool," she pauses, briefly, to breathe, "but you don't treat me like I'm crazy, and that's important, because even though I'm not, anymore, mostly, sometimes people look at me like I am. But you don't."

"Oh." Harmony smiles. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Well, yeah." She sounds surprised.

Harmony grins. "Okay." She knocks back the last of her martini, signals for another round.

Fred sips her strawberry-lime margarita.

"We probably shouldn't talk about this at work," Harmony decides breezily. "Boys jump to conclusions."

Fred blushes again.

Harmony notices.

*

 

Three days later, Harmony brings a laptop into the department heads' meeting. Angel glares at her, or more technically, _it_, but she sets it next to Fred's notebook and sits down with a smile.

"Real-time notes are accurate notes, boss," she announces.

"I didn't know you typed," Fred pipes in. "I mean," she stammers.

"Typing was my second-favorite class in high school," Harmony responds. "Never had to study. And I'm good with my hands." Wesley hasn't arrived yet, so she dares to waggle her fingers at Fred.

Angel scowls, almost audibly, and Lorne coughs. Then Wesley walks in and the meeting starts.

Between bullet points, Fred stares at Harmony's hands. "Eighty-nine words per minute," Harmony whispers.

Fred bites her lip.

*

 

That night, Fred plies her with mojitos and chocolate cake shots. Which is, yes, cute, but Harmony also thinks Fred could try to be a little less charming-frat-boy, and a little more _Fred_.

When Harmony calls her on it, Fred's eyes go wide. She drops a couple of bills on the table, and stands up, stammering about how she has an early day tomorrow, and it's been lots and lots of fun hanging out, but--

Harmony grabs her wrist, shows her a glint of pointy teeth.

She kind of wants to say something suave, but she can't think of anything. So instead, she tugs Fred closer, and runs a slow, lingering hand under the hem of Fred's micro-mini.

A waitress clears her throat behind them, raises an eyebrow.

Harmony smirks, and slides her hand up further.

Fred yelps, but she's also damp beneath Harmony's fingers.

"My place is closer," Harmony points out.

"Yeah," Fred squeaks. "Close. Good."

_ii. Your voice said  
other people's words,  
erased its own._

One morning, in bed, Fred rolls over and stares at Harmony with her Serious Look.

"What do you think about Wesley?" she asks.

Harmony rolls over. "Not before I've had my blood."

"No," Fred insists, "really."

Harmony looks at her. Gauges the seriousness of the Serious Look. Sighs.

"I will only make exceptions for you and Charlize Theron."

"What?" Fred frowns, then gasps. "Oh! Really?"

"Vampire, remember?" Harmony pulls the covers back over her head. "Flexible."

*

 

Harmony thinks it's kind of a predictable romance, but Wesley's kind of yummy, and Fred seems up for it, given enough tequila is provided.

But then Fred gets sick, and the boys run off to save the day, and nobody's sitting with her in the converted office suite pretending to be a hospital room.

So Harmony bullies one of the temps into covering her desk, snarls at the guard posted outside Fred's door, and creeps in as quietly as she can.

Fred wakes up anyway. "Harmony?"

"Are you--" She perches on the edge of the bed, takes Fred's hand. "I mean, can I--"

Fred shudders, then squeezes Harmony's palm.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispers.

Harmony closes her eyes.

*

 

And then Fred dies.

_iii. Knowing that story already,  
you could make a different one._

Illyria isn't Fred.

Harmony doesn't make that mistake, not like the others do, or try not to do. (Neither does Spike, and they exchange sad glances in the hallway, once in a while.) She doesn't smell like Fred, doesn't move like her, doesn't sound like her.

It's easier to pretend she doesn't care, because then sometimes, she can pretend it doesn't hurt.

*

 

She presents her résumé and recommendations to Johanna Mercer, director of Demon Resources, Wolfram &amp; Hart, New York.

"My last job situation sort of," Harmony searches for a word, "_imploded_."

"So I'm told." Johanna reviews the papers before slipping them inside a manila folder. "You're hired."

"Really?" Harmony blinks. "That was easy."

Johanna smiles. "Let me be honest, Miss Kendall. Your performance in Los Angeles was impressive." She leans forward. "Wolfram &amp; Hart rewards those loyal to the firm."

"Oh. Right." Harmony clutches her purse to her chest. "When do I start?"

*

 

"The pay isn't superb," Masha from the secretarial pool tells her, "but the perks are incredible."

"Perks, huh?" Harmony ducks her head into the breakroom, sniffs deeply.

Masha giggles. "Fresh blood. Smells good, huh?"

"Yeah," Harmony closes her eyes, breathes it in. "Pig?"

"Ew, no." Masha wrinkles her nose. "Human."

Harmony frowns, but Masha keeps walking.

"Must be a nice change," she chatters, "after being stuck in Los Angeles for so long. It's different here, I promise."

Across the hall, Harmony spots a couple of geeks in lab coats, arguing as they enter a conference room.

"Promise?" she mutters, but Masha doesn't hear her.


End file.
